MEET ME AT LES DEUX GARÇONS: A SEQUEL TO “MIDNIGHT IN PARIS”?

Our family has made Les Deux Garçons a meeting place since our very first night in Provence.  That evening was the occasion of a fast-moving but powerful electrical storm that caught us as we walked to dinner.  I recall running to the restaurant, my daughter’s tiny hand holding tightly on to my own, and arriving looking more like a family of drowned rats than the excited threesome we were. But, we were warmly welcomed by the waiters—all men and all dressed in the black and white garb of an Old World elegance seldom found today.  We were immediately enthralled by the beauty of the original 1790ish “gilt-and-muraled” interior that I had read about in Fodor’s Tourist Guide. Long before Woody Allen’s “Midnight” movie, we felt transported back in time. The meal that followed—I can’t recall now what we had aside from crème brulée and profiteroles for dessert—was delicious and reasonably priced (in contrast to what the tour books had said).

Grab a table on the terrace, where we have returned countless times now, for breakfast, lunch, or a beverage. Anytime of day is fine; but, if you are not eating, choose a table that is not covered in white linen.

For breakfast, I recommend their special which includes a tea or café—I order a grande crème—with croissants, bread, and juice for a very reasonable price.  Omlettes (delicious, Towny tells me) may be added to the breakfast special for a nominal fee.  A light lunch or dinner may be ordered on the terrace; but, for the finer cuisine, move indoors.

The clear advantage of the table on the terrace is that one has a bird’s eye view of Aixois life as it parades by on cours Mirabeau.  One sees business men in perfectly tailored suits and women dressed to the nines; hipsters dressed in black and covered with tattoos and spikes; and absolutely everything in between.

And, the passersby are certainly watching the patrons, too, as evidenced by a funny experience my friend Pam and I recently had at our favorite haunt.  It was an uncharacteristically chilly October morning and we—Pam, her faithful canine companion D’Agneau and I–were one of two occupied tables outdoors.  We three sat on one side, with our backs to the glass, under the wide canopy and we people-watched as we sipped our grande crèmes.  Every 20 minutes a new gaggle of what we suspected were Americans would stop in front of Les Deux Garçons  and the guide, who held a sign high enough to reach the plane trees, would stop and proceed to recite the names of all the celebrities who had ever graced the terrace of this famous café.  One group spent an inordinate amount of time in front of us and suddenly I realized that we were the subject of the guide’s talk.  Just as I voiced my suspicions to Pam, they turned their cameras toward us, and leaned in to focus.  A chorus of snapping shutters was followed by awkward smiles and nods of thanks and then the paparazzi were on their way. I had the distinct impression that the guide was talking about D’Agneau, something about the French taking their dogs everywhere; my impressions were confirmed when, a little later, we bumped into the same tour guide who, while petting D’Agneau, asked if we had just been in Les Deux Garçons.  When I answered in a heavily anglicized French, she was taken aback and began laughing.  She called over the members of her tour group—Americans—and we all laughed as she explained that she had used us as an example of how the French take their dogs everywhere, including restaurants!